


I Hate The Cold

by athenril_of_kirkwall (al_fletcher)



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Dragon Age Drunk Writing Circle, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Minor Character(s), POV Minor Character, Prompt Fic, Romance, This Is Rated Mature Because Someone Says Fuck Once, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-26
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-10-16 11:19:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17548709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/al_fletcher/pseuds/athenril_of_kirkwall
Summary: Jim runs into Minaeve whilst fleeing from Cullen, and it just so happens to be snowing in the courtyard.





	I Hate The Cold

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for “If you’re so cold, why didn’t you say something? Come here.“

Jim didn’t quite know where he was going.

The last thing he remembered was chucking Sister Nightingale’s report on the Commander’s desk and half-dashing, half-stumbling towards, and then down that ridiculously long flight of stairs towards the central courtyard, just going _anywhere_ which would put as much distance as possible between him and Commander Cullen.

Maker save him, why didn’t he just look _up_ from that blasted scroll when he walked out on those battlements and exercise due discretion?

The more he thought about it the more he realised just what a shit heap he was in. Millions of souls in Thedas and he was one of three that knew that the Inquisitor and her Commander were mashing faces atop Skyhold, and he hadn’t been either participant.

Andraste’s knickers, the Commander would be bearing down on him like an out-of-control bronto just to make sure he didn’t blab about it to anyone. With any luck they’d get more public with it – that way he’d have to split his attention between more than one hapless, unlucky witness. Not the Inquisitor, she had much more important things to do.

He realised that he was blaspheming when he realised that he was hoping that she’d have too many Fade rifts to handle out there to come breathing down his neck, and wandered into the Chantry to make his apologies to the Maker and His Bride.

After sitting on the pews for at least a good five minutes, he stood up to leave, and realised that a minor snowstorm had blown in whilst he was hiding from the Commander.

A thin layer of snow, having been brought over from of the many peaks surrounding Skyhold, now coated everything in the herb garden which was usually tended by Minaeve, that Circle mage who’d been the previous creature researcher. She was seated on the bench near the pavilion, also being gently billowed by the chill breeze.

The elf was hunched over, with her knees touching, but she didn’t seem to be shivering, just…kind of tired.

As he headed to the door back into the main hall, he gave her a kind of wave, sort of turning his head to her general direction.

She gave that kind of forlorn smile she gave everyone, nodding back in his direction.

Jim’s hand wavered at the handle as he thought things through. If he went back to quarters now, or regrouped with his buddies at the Herald’s Rest, there’d be the chance that the Commander would catch up with him, and even if he wasn’t _really_ going to have his guts for garters – Ser Rutherford was an absolute Chantry sister next to the Spymaster, now _there_ was a superior that could make him soil his breeches – he really wasn’t in the mood for the inevitable nod-and-smile, your-secret-is-safe-with-me chat they’d wind up having.

If he was going to waste the next few minutes, it might as well be in the company of a pretty face, or so he reckoned. So, he moved away from the door, and walked up to Minaeve, who only realised that he was approaching when he was about three steps away from the bench.

She gave a start, mostly unintentionally. “Oh! Hello, uh…”

“Jeremias,” he said, “but everyone calls me Jim. You’re Minaeve, aren’t you?”

She nodded, saying, “Yes, that’s me. Is there something you need, Jim?”

“Well, not really. I’m mostly just trying to stay out of the, ah, public eye. Are you, ah, alone?”, he asked, scanning the deserted, snowy, garden.

“I am,” she sighed, staring through him. “But I don’t mind company.”

“Oh, right,” Jim said, brushing some snow off her bench before sitting down a respectful distance away. “So…you like the snow around here?”

A long, painfully awkward, silence, ensued where Minaeve just stared into the space in front of her while Jim shifted uncomfortably. Finally, just as Jim’s breath was catching in his throat, she spoke.

“No,” she said. “I fucking hate it.”

“I…I’m sorry?”

She turned to him, eyes dazzling with far more than the glint of sunshine off the snowdrift. “Can you keep a secret, Jim?”

He stated, “Well…I can,” as he thought back to the circumstances that had led him here.

Minaeve nodded slowly. “Do you know anything about how I joined the Circle?”

He shook his head.

“This is how the story usually goes. I was born to a Dalish clan somewhere around Highever, and when it turned out I had magic they cast me out because they had a limit on them per clan. It was the middle of winter when they did it. All I remember is night after freezing night until I made it to the outskirts of Highever. I tried lighting a fire with my magic and the townspeople were going to string me up until a visiting Templar, a brave man called Emeric, saved my life, and that’s how I got there.”

Realising he’d been biting on his lip, Jim released it, saying, “I’m so sorry. That’s so terrible, what your clan and those townspeople…”

“Except that part about that rule among the Dalish is bullshit. It’s all bullshit,” she cried, sobbing. Jim _really_ didn’t know what to do, so he watched her wipe her tears. She continued, “I’ve been telling lies about the elves for more than a decade because the alternative’s just so much _worse_. This doesn’t leave the two of us, you understand?”

He immediately nodded complyingly.

“They love magic. They can’t get enough of it. They’d never throw one out unless…”

“Unless..?” Jim asked, expectantly.

“Well, it’s a long story, but my father was killed and my mother was…cursed in the Brecilian Forest shortly before I was born. Her condition got worse and worse, and eventually she had to be…put down.” Minaeve sighed deeply, carrying the sum of her pains in her breath.

“Put down?”

“Her condition had made her violent, right at the end. Nobody wanted to associate with me after that. Not with that damned curse hanging over my head. They were all waiting for me to succumb too, and when they saw I had magic that was excuse enough.”

Jim exhaled, breath condensing in the chill. “Why didn’t you tell people about the curse?”

Minaeve shook her head. “They wouldn’t understand. And those who would, they’d just throw me out just like my clan did.”

“You think that?”

“I know that.”

He thought for a moment. “Why tell me all this?”

She turned to him. “Because you said you could keep a secret. Because I’m just so damned tired of keeping it to myself. Because _every time_ it snows in this blasted place I’m reminded of the worst time of my life, nearly freezing to death because of some _short-sighted idiots_.”

Minaeve now was shivering, or sobbing, or both. Jim drew a little closer, whipping off his head coverings and getting his helmet off, revealing a short scruff of brown hair with close-cropped sides.

“Well, you should have said you were getting chilled out here! Here, at least cover your head. I’ve got all this green cloth to keep me warm.”

Jim was holding his helmet out, offering it to her. She stared at it, then at him, with an expectant expression that was goofier with every second that passed. Eventually, Minaeve gingerly took it and slipped it over her head, tucking her ears in one by one as it came down. Her brilliant hazel eyes were framed perfectly by the little gap in the helmet’s cheek-plates. Without those in the way, she in turn got her first look of the scout’s face in full.

“Great, now I’m freezing my bum off _and_ I’m sure I look like an idiot. How’s the headscarf?”

Trying to draw the hood a bit closer to his ears, Jim said, “It’s…less warm than I thought it would be, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Well, thanks. Not really for the helmet, but thanks for listening, Jim. It’s been…a while since I got to tell anyone that.”

“You’re welcome. It’s refreshing to just have a chat with someone here besides the Command-

Cullen’s voice broke into the courtyard. “Scout Jeremias!”

As though things could get even colder, the entire scene froze, with Minaeve bearing a mortified expression as she reached for the helmet and Jim just gaping at the Commander as he stood framed in the doorway. In the end, it was Cullen that broke the silence.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere in Skyhold for the past half-hour, but I…see…that we share a common understanding.”

“Sir…?”

Cullen’s eyes flashed as he glanced at Minaeve, who’d managed to get Jim’s helmet off one of her ears and was still staring at Cullen like a stray hedgehog who’d avoided getting run over by a chevalier’s steed.

“I-Sir-this isn’t-we-” Jim stuttered, but the Commander waved him shut.

“Settle your affairs, Jeremias. Dinner’s on the hour and the briefing’s right after that. We’re leaving at sunrise for Emprise du Lion to oversee the bridge.”

“I- _affairs?!_ ” he finally managed, standing up to confront the accusation, but Cullen was already gone, the door slamming behind the Commander.

“Here you go,” Minaeve said quietly, passing Jim his helmet back.

Turning slowly back to her, he took it and pulled his hood back, preparing to put it back on. “Oh. Right. Thanks, Minaeve.”

“You’re welcome. But you know what?” she asked. “It’s got to be warmer in the keep. You don’t _need_ to wear that unless you’re concerned about rocks falling from the sky, right?”

“I guess not, what with the Breach closed. Well, more or less,” he said, carelessly threading his free fingers through his helmet-flattened hair.

“Anyway,” she said, standing up, “I suppose I should check in on Helisma. She wanted my advice on some beasts’ diets, I believe. But…it was nice meeting you, Jim.”

“And you, Minaeve,” he said, nodding.

“When do you return from Emprise du Lion?”

Jim shrugged his shoulders. “No idea, to be honest. These things could take days, or weeks.”

“Well,” Minaeve said, “if and when you do, I’ll be here. Tending the garden, as usual.”

“Well,” he replied, “I guess I’ll see you then. Oh, look at that. I think it’s stopped snowing.”

“So it has,” she said, lingering in the courtyard for a moment to look at the skies together with him as the setting sun broke through the clouds. “By the way, Jim, what _did_ the Commander mean when he said that you ‘shared a common understanding?’”

“I, uh, I couldn’t possibly say,” he said, flushing down to his neck.

“Sister Nightingale’s still sweet on the Hero of Ferelden, and Lady Montilyet has Warden Blackwall’s undivided attention, so…” she trailed off, her eyes widening. “It couldn’t be, could it…?”

“You said it best, Minaeve. I can keep a secret,” Jim said with a wink as he left.

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr: https://athenril-of-kirkwall.tumblr.com/post/182315242880/
> 
> I imagine that Jim looks like this under the hood: https://old.reddit.com/r/inquisitionsliders/comments/ahxksd/


End file.
